[ Crowley buries his face in the crook of Aziraphale's neck after being incapable of salvaging some semblance of dignity because every touch elicits either another moan, or some deep, contented sound in him. He's never let anyone else touch his wings and Aziraphale seems to know exactly Still, he holds the angel steady on his lap, one arm at the small of his back, the other around his shoulders, leaving plenty of room for him to let his wings free.
And oh, they are ever so lovely. He watches them unfold and he's put in mind of white gardenias; one of the few flowering plants he grew. White and fluffy and just a bit unkempt, and his fingers itch to give them a good preening. There was something about the intimacy of all of it - these parts of them they kept hidden now all laid bare in the comfort of Aziraphale's bathroom. They're mostly dressed, but Crowley feels just as naked as every time they've been intimate.
With great care, he extends his wing to very tentatively brush with the tip of his longest primary flight feather, quickly retracting it. There are no sparks, no bursts of flames or the ripping of the time space continuum. It does send a pleasant shiver through him though, and Crowley extends his wing again for more extended contact.
He grins when nothing catches fire, and tenderly massages the feathery joints at Aziraphale's shoulders. ]
Look at us. So far so good, yeah?
[ Maybe it was because what everyone thought they knew about angels and demons wasn't actually accurate. Maybe it was just because he and Aziraphale weren't pure Good or unadulterated Evil. Maybe a combination of both or there were just other factors at play. Either way, these parts of them could, at the very least, touch without setting off anything too catastrophic beyond whatever was going on in Crowley's trousers. ]
[It has been a very, very long time since anyone had touched Aziraphale's wings, and even then it was perfunctory and clinical, another member of the heavenly host simply tucking unkempt feathers back into their pristine order. Not since Heaven has he let anyone other than himself touch them, and it does show in the few spots that ought to be preened. The fluffiness suits him, though, matching his hair and soft appearance. It makes them all the more inviting.
When Crowley brushes the tip of his wing to Aziraphale's, the angel gasps, but it is not out of pain. Quite the opposite, in fact, and when Crowley extends his wing again, he eagerly meets it, his wings unfurling further so that more feathers can brush up against one another. If he had to put words to the feeling, he'd describe it as like coming into a hearth-warmed home from the cold, but it is far more sensual than that. He drops his forehead to Crowley's, exhaling with a groan when the demon's hands began massaging his feathery joints.]
Yes... quite good...
[He's grateful for Crowley's arms around him as he adjusts his weight in Crowley's lap to re-balance himself. He feels the effect of their intimacy on Crowley and bites back a giggle.]
Someone appears to be enjoying our little experiment. What do you say, when it's time to rinse your hair, we do that in the bath instead of sitting just outside it?
[ Crowley works his fingers through Aziraphale's feathers, smoothing the ones that seemed like they'd be uncomfortably out of place. He cherished those rare times he got to see the angel's wings - wings that had sheltered him from the first rains on Earth, the first real act of kindness Crowley had experienced since his fall. So he's careful with them, the way he's always been careful with Aziraphale.
As their wings maintain contact, whatever lingering tension drains from him. Nothing to be done about his cock, though. It seems to have a mind of it's own own as far as Aziraphale is concerned. ]
'Course I'm enjoying myself. M'with you.
[ He had his arms and lap full of Aziraphale, with their foreheads pressed together, gazing into one another's eyes like a pair of juvenile star-crossed lovers. He's sure the smile on his face is very undemonic and he can't bring himself to care. ]
And that sounds like an excellent idea. Very tempting. I can give your wings a proper preening.
[For every feather that Crowley smooths back into place, Aziraphale relaxes that much more, slumping against Crowley and making small, contented sounds. Not only do his wings feel better, but Crowley's careful touch feels like it's melting away the worried tangles within his very essence. He's never had his wings handled with such love; it make his very soul sing.]
I'm enjoying myself, too.
[He caresses the tops of Crowley's wings to demonstrate, pressing into Crowley's erection while he does so, his smile turning mischievous.]
You can preen my wings all you like, but only after I take care of you first.
[He means Crowley's hair, but he'd like to take care of all of him if the demon will allow it.]
[ It's a rare treat to feel Aziraphale relax so much in his arms. They were both wound tight, but Crowley always thought Aziraphale carried it more. He was the one with more to lose, after all, and Heaven was full of picky perfectionists. Even now, when they can let some of those defenses down, old habits die hard.
So Crowley savours the moment and holds him close, hands running up and down his spine and combing through his feathers. Less grooming and more of a massage. ]
'Course. I do love when you take care of me.
[ It seems Crowley understood the unspoken implication - that this is about a bit more than looking after his hair, and that Aziraphale has the demon's bles- go-ahead to indulge to his heart's content. ]
You've always done so well, keeping us safe, yeah? You know I trust your judgment.
[Where being close (physically or otherwise) was once a source of anxiety -- fear of getting caught, fear of Crowley being punished for it, fear of admitting to himself the depth of his feelings -- now it is only Crowley that can truly relax him. He nuzzles into Crowley's neck like an overgrown house cat, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along the edges of Crowley's feathers.]
Good. You beat me to the punch far too often. Not that I'm complaining, mind you...
[He sits up again and stretches his wings, smiling blissfully when they brush up against Crowley's. He's about to recommend that they move onto the bath when Crowley speaks again. It silences his thoughts and leaves him looking at the demon a touch wide-eyed. It's one thing to know that Crowley trusts him, another thing to hear it spoken aloud.]
For over six thousand years, my dear. Of course, it helps that Gabriel could never see past his own ego. [His smile turns somewhat bashful as he brushes back a slick lock of Crowley's hair.] I trust yours, too, you know. We'd never have gotten to have this, otherwise.
[ Aziraphale trusts him too - it hits Crowley right in his already battered heart, and his expression goes soft and fond as he gazes at the angel nuzzling into his neck.
As their wings brush again, Crowley exhales, accompanied by a low, contented sound. Oh yes, he thinks, they're definitely going to have to explore this in greater detail. Eventually he manages a weak chuckle. ]
Can you blame me though? The way you light up when you're happy - got kind of addicted to just finding new ways to do it.
[ And Crowley likes very much to see Aziraphale happy. It warmed his heart just to have those moments together, where even their work couldn't interfere. ]
It does help our former employers were thick as shit though. Now, how do you want me, love?
[Aziraphale drops his gaze only to raise it again, slowly, smiling in that way he does when he's trying (and failing) not to show how smitten he is by something that Crowley has said.]
Well, I must be lit up all the time these days, because of you.
[He leans in for another kiss and briefly considers what it would be like to brush his lips over Crowley's wings, but ultimately decides that might be a bit too much, too soon. They have time to explore this particular type of intimacy.
Crowley's question makes him chuckle and look the demon over, eyes twinkling.]
Oh, I can think of more than a few ways... in the bath, for starters. With our wings put back away -- for a little while -- so there's more room to work with.
[He slides off Crowley's lap to make it easier for both of them to get undressed. As he tucks his wings back into the astral plane, he notices what a difference it makes to have even those few feathers that Crowley preened now resting where they belong.]
[ Still tingling pleasantly from the contact with Aziraphale's wings, Crowley obediently folds his own as they fade from this plane of reality, and gets his remaining clothes off. ]
Your wish is my command, angel.
[ Sinking into the hot water, he rests his arms on the rim and pillows his chin in his folded hands, watching Aziraphale undress with great interest. Despite the tension in his groin and his eagerness to have Aziraphale back in his arms, he feels uncharacteristically serene. It's comfortable in the hot water, old aches seeping out of his corporation's bones, his many thousands of years of anxieties draining from him in the comfort and safety of Aziraphale's shop.
He grins lazily, flicking a bit of water in Aziraphale's direction. ]
C'mon, sweetheart. Join me. Water's lovely and there's plenty of room.
[Aziraphale would roll his eyes if he knew that Crowley wasn't absolutely serious about fulfilling his wishes. The thought gives him butterflies, or perhaps it's the way Crowley so casually undresses himself before getting into the bath, a figure of lithe beauty that Aziraphale can't seem to get enough of.
He undresses himself slowly, distracted by the image before him, until Crowley flicks water at him and startles him out of his little trance.]
Hey!
[There's no bite to his reprimand, just laughter as he shakes himself and removes the rest of his clothes much more efficiently. He's as aroused as Crowley, which he doesn't bother to hide as he steps into the bath, positioning himself behind Crowley and sighing appreciatively at the water's temperature.]
Lean back, love. I'll wash your hair. Twice, you had said?
[ Crowley drinks his fill of the sight of Aziraphale, forked tongue flicking out to lick his lips. In Crowley's (not so) humble opinion, there is nothing quite as sexy as Aziraphale naked, aroused, and full of mirth.
He shifts his bony hips aside so Aziraphale can get in and make himself comfortable, and then settles down between his thighs, leaning back as instructed. He angles his head just so to plant a trail of tender kisses along Aziraphale's cheek, clearly quite happy to make himself comfortable in the angel's lap. ]
Twice, yeah. First to get the oil out and then to condition it. Just a dab of shampoo too. 'Bout the size of a quid.
[ Idly, he strokes Aziraphale's thigh under the water. He feels so at ease nestled up against him, his ever-present anxieties fled to the darkest corners of the shop. ]
Then dab it off with a towel when we're done in here and comb out any tangles. Which there might be, given your penchant for holding on.
[ Crowley leers, looking ever so pleased about the prospect. ]
[It's impossible not to be the latter two when in Crowley's presence, and the first has become a regular occurrence for the angel, who has become quite comfortable in that state around the demon. He smiles as Crowley settles, quietly marveling at how easily they fit together. The coconut oil smears on him as Crowley leans back to kiss him, and he huffs in amusement while reaching for the bottle of shampoo, conveniently placed where he doesn't have to stretch to get it.]
I'm going to need to rinse myself off, at this rate.
[He pours out a quid's worth of shampoo, as instructed, and then begins massaging it into Crowley's hair. The lather has a clean, fresh scent, nothing too perfume-y or overpowering. Crowley's leer is returned with a look of faux innocence as he tugs ever so slightly on his soapy locks.]
Considering all the lovely sounds you make when I do, it's no wonder that I've acquired the habit.
[ It's becoming a well-known fact between them that witty repartee is right out the window the second Aziraphale gets his hands in Crowley's hair. Quite miraculous really - what mischief Crowley wouldn't have gotten up to if either of them had known this fact centuries before. And what mischief they would have gotten into.
Probably for the best. They'd never have gotten anything else done otherwise. ]
S'supposed to be good for your skin. Coconut oil. Good for - for all sortsa ssstuff.
[ Crowley had gone into that boneless, relaxed state, where he's slurring and hissing his words. His fingers are still idly tracing a pattern up and down Aziraphale's thigh, but they've slowed, as Crowley's practically melted into the angel's arms. ]
Hmmmgh - s'good, love. Your hands. Always so good.
[At the very least, Aziraphale would have won a lot more of their arguments.]
Mmm, you'll have to share with me all your beauty secrets. I can keep a stash of it here for whenever you visit.
[He works more of the lather in, bringing his fingers behind Crowley's ears and scratching lightly at his scalp, pleased at how Crowley has gone all melty and hissy from his touch.]
I've been learning what you like, dear, and I'm a quick study.
[ Crowley manages to nod his head. His 'visits' have become more and more frequent these days, spanning several days where the only times he stopped by his Mayfair flat are to water his water his plants.
Another talk they'll need to have someday. Not today - or at the very least, not this minute. Maybe he'll just bring up the subject of letting some of his fussier plants into the shop where he can keep an eye on them. Before they get too complacent.
The thoughts are lost in a rush of incoherent noises coming from the demon as Aziraphale massages his scalp. Once again, he is absolute putty in his hands, rubbing his back up against Aziraphale's chest. ]
Always been a quick study, clever bassstard.
[ Normally he'd be embarrassed about the hissing, but in this state he's finding it hard to think about anything that isn't Aziraphale touching him, let alone have the mental fortitude to be embarrassed. ]
[Aziraphale has certainly noticed how much more time Crowley has been spending at his bookshop and the flat above, and there are no complaints from him. There have been changes to the flat, however, most notably a general tidying up and rehoming many books to the shop below so that it looks more like a place to live and less like a cluttered attic. Based on that alone, Aziraphale seems rather eager to share his personal space with Crowley.
He hasn't said anything yet, of course. He might be waiting for Crowley to broach the subject. He has that sleek and expensive flat in Mayfair, after all, and cohabitation is significant step in any relationship. He won't turn away any plants that Crowley brings by, though, or anything else he wants to leave in the flat or the back of the shop.
The praise makes him smile, a warm feeling in his chest as he continues to wash Crowley's hair.]
As much as I'd like to comply, I do need to rinse your hair at some point, you know.
[The shampoo is as lathered in as it's ever going to get, but he spends a little extra time massaging Crowley's scalp, turning the demon into a delightfully limp noodle.]
Tilt your head back again, my dear? I'll rinse your hair and start afresh.
[ It's a good thing Aziraphale doesn't seem to mind rubbing his scalp because it's a little while before Crowley's brain registers what his ears heard. Eventually he manages to finally process the angel's words and his head falls back obediently.
He had thought he'd never want to come out Aziraphale's bed. Now he's fairly certain he could at least do with a good soak for the next two centuries provided that he doesn't have to part from Aziraphale's warmth (made only warmer by the bathwater). ]
Mm, this is nice. I'll leave everything to your very capable hands, shall I?
[Aziraphale is a patient angel, although he can't help but be amused at the way Crowley fuzzily complies. They really should have done this sooner, but they were too busy making up for lost time, and he won't trade that first week they were in bed together for anything.]
Yes, you shall. I'll take very good care of you and your hair.
[Picking up a cup from the edge of the tub, he fills it with water from the tap, then pours it over Crowley's hair. It takes a few pours to clear away all the lather, but the water is always the perfect temperature and he keeps his other hand at Crowley's eyebrows to shield him from any errant droplets.]
Perhaps I can have a detachable faucet installed, like they use at the salon, if this becomes a regular thing. What do you use to wash your hair at your flat?
[ It takes a sort of iron clad self-control to not just turn over and drape himself over Aziraphale, yet Crowley bravely preservers. ]
Just what you're doing now. S'more relaxing.
[ Crowley feels like there should be more to his hair care routine than a rather innocuous oil, a bit of shampoo, gentle rinsing, and a bit of brushing, but he finds that in this case, following fads only left his hair a dry mess.
He reaches up to cup the angel's cheek in his palm. ]
[Too bad, he'd get a glimpse of Aziraphale's concentrating face, the tip of his tongue sticking out as he methodically rinses away the last of the lather. This routine, as simple as it is, is satisfying a deep itch within Aziraphale. He turns his head to kiss Crowley's palm, smiling from the praise.]
It's rather lovely on this end, too. Budge up, dear, it's onto round two.
[He gently nudges Crowley's head back up, and helps himself to another small dollop of shampoo that he massages into Crowley's hair, significantly less oily this time around.]
[ It's a shame Crowley misses it. He loves to watch every little micro-expression Aziraphale makes, and the angel is ever so expressive.
Without fuss Crowley leans forward again, making a low noise of approval. ]
This feels wonderful. Be careful though - might try to tempt you into taking over this whole routine completely.
[ He doesn't want to picture how he'll make big snake eyes at Aziraphale while holding up the jar of coconut oil and bottle of shampoo while making an imploring pout. It's too much for his very demonic pride. ]
[It's not Crowley's style to pout and plead, although he can be very persuasive in his own way. The suggestion alone makes Aziraphale feel all warm inside over the possibility.]
I'd be delighted to, you know, every time. We could start every morning with a good brushing, at the very least.
[He hums a little tune as he continues to wash Crowley's hair, unaware of what he just implied, that Crowley spend every night at Aziraphale's so that he can care for that lustrous hair in the morning. After a longer-than-necessary massage, he tilts Crowley's head back again and reaches for the cup.]
[ Crowley doesn't miss the implication. He is nothing short of delighted by it as he tilts his head back, gazing adoringly up at Aziraphale.
Maybe they're still struggling with being direct, and maybe they would for a long time coming. Six thousand years is a long time for habits to get ingrained, but he wants Aziraphale to know he's seen. ]
Every morning, eh? I like the sound of that.
[ His fingers had returned to trailing up and down Aziraphale's thigh. ]
I'll bring my toiletries over then? ...Maybe a few other things from the flat too...?
[It gets easier every time, especially when Crowley acknowledges what he's asking and affirms that it isn't too much or too soon. He kisses his forehead, then resumes rinsing his hair, as careful as he was the first go-round.
The fingers on his thigh put a smile on his face, once that fully blossoms when Crowley offers to bring a few of his items over.]
Yes, please do. I'll even give you half the vanity. [His voice is teasing; Crowley can take up as much space as he likes.] What other sorts of things are you thinking?
[ Crowley likes that. Half of the vanity to each of them, puttering around in the bathroom together until, in a few months time, all their things are mixed together.
Crowley remembers happiness as well. Constant, unfathomable, ineffable joy of being in Her service, and yet it was never enough. He always wanted more.
Here, in this moment, it's enough. This joy he feels is fathomable and very effable. They had, in fact, been effing just the other day on the sofa. But it was enough. Half of a vanity. A warm bath with Aziraphale. Little plans for days to come.
He's not sure why it's something so small that hits him so hard, but it does and he turns his soapy head into the crook of Aziraphale's neck. ]
Don't have too many things besides my plants, the Mona Lisa, and some sculptures.
[ He grins against Aziraphale's throat. ]
...And the throne.
[ He loves the throne. It's so cheap, so tacky, so over-the-top, so utterly against his minimalist decor - it was one of the few bits of his actual personality he'd let the Mayfair flat reflect. ]
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And oh, they are ever so lovely. He watches them unfold and he's put in mind of white gardenias; one of the few flowering plants he grew. White and fluffy and just a bit unkempt, and his fingers itch to give them a good preening. There was something about the intimacy of all of it - these parts of them they kept hidden now all laid bare in the comfort of Aziraphale's bathroom. They're mostly dressed, but Crowley feels just as naked as every time they've been intimate.
With great care, he extends his wing to very tentatively brush with the tip of his longest primary flight feather, quickly retracting it. There are no sparks, no bursts of flames or the ripping of the time space continuum. It does send a pleasant shiver through him though, and Crowley extends his wing again for more extended contact.
He grins when nothing catches fire, and tenderly massages the feathery joints at Aziraphale's shoulders. ]
Look at us. So far so good, yeah?
[ Maybe it was because what everyone thought they knew about angels and demons wasn't actually accurate. Maybe it was just because he and Aziraphale weren't pure Good or unadulterated Evil. Maybe a combination of both or there were just other factors at play. Either way, these parts of them could, at the very least, touch without setting off anything too catastrophic beyond whatever was going on in Crowley's trousers. ]
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When Crowley brushes the tip of his wing to Aziraphale's, the angel gasps, but it is not out of pain. Quite the opposite, in fact, and when Crowley extends his wing again, he eagerly meets it, his wings unfurling further so that more feathers can brush up against one another. If he had to put words to the feeling, he'd describe it as like coming into a hearth-warmed home from the cold, but it is far more sensual than that. He drops his forehead to Crowley's, exhaling with a groan when the demon's hands began massaging his feathery joints.]
Yes... quite good...
[He's grateful for Crowley's arms around him as he adjusts his weight in Crowley's lap to re-balance himself. He feels the effect of their intimacy on Crowley and bites back a giggle.]
Someone appears to be enjoying our little experiment. What do you say, when it's time to rinse your hair, we do that in the bath instead of sitting just outside it?
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As their wings maintain contact, whatever lingering tension drains from him. Nothing to be done about his cock, though. It seems to have a mind of it's own own as far as Aziraphale is concerned. ]
'Course I'm enjoying myself. M'with you.
[ He had his arms and lap full of Aziraphale, with their foreheads pressed together, gazing into one another's eyes like a pair of juvenile star-crossed lovers. He's sure the smile on his face is very undemonic and he can't bring himself to care. ]
And that sounds like an excellent idea. Very tempting. I can give your wings a proper preening.
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I'm enjoying myself, too.
[He caresses the tops of Crowley's wings to demonstrate, pressing into Crowley's erection while he does so, his smile turning mischievous.]
You can preen my wings all you like, but only after I take care of you first.
[He means Crowley's hair, but he'd like to take care of all of him if the demon will allow it.]
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So Crowley savours the moment and holds him close, hands running up and down his spine and combing through his feathers. Less grooming and more of a massage. ]
'Course. I do love when you take care of me.
[ It seems Crowley understood the unspoken implication - that this is about a bit more than looking after his hair, and that Aziraphale has the demon's bles- go-ahead to indulge to his heart's content. ]
You've always done so well, keeping us safe, yeah? You know I trust your judgment.
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Good. You beat me to the punch far too often. Not that I'm complaining, mind you...
[He sits up again and stretches his wings, smiling blissfully when they brush up against Crowley's. He's about to recommend that they move onto the bath when Crowley speaks again. It silences his thoughts and leaves him looking at the demon a touch wide-eyed. It's one thing to know that Crowley trusts him, another thing to hear it spoken aloud.]
For over six thousand years, my dear. Of course, it helps that Gabriel could never see past his own ego. [His smile turns somewhat bashful as he brushes back a slick lock of Crowley's hair.] I trust yours, too, you know. We'd never have gotten to have this, otherwise.
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As their wings brush again, Crowley exhales, accompanied by a low, contented sound. Oh yes, he thinks, they're definitely going to have to explore this in greater detail. Eventually he manages a weak chuckle. ]
Can you blame me though? The way you light up when you're happy - got kind of addicted to just finding new ways to do it.
[ And Crowley likes very much to see Aziraphale happy. It warmed his heart just to have those moments together, where even their work couldn't interfere. ]
It does help our former employers were thick as shit though. Now, how do you want me, love?
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Well, I must be lit up all the time these days, because of you.
[He leans in for another kiss and briefly considers what it would be like to brush his lips over Crowley's wings, but ultimately decides that might be a bit too much, too soon. They have time to explore this particular type of intimacy.
Crowley's question makes him chuckle and look the demon over, eyes twinkling.]
Oh, I can think of more than a few ways... in the bath, for starters. With our wings put back away -- for a little while -- so there's more room to work with.
[He slides off Crowley's lap to make it easier for both of them to get undressed. As he tucks his wings back into the astral plane, he notices what a difference it makes to have even those few feathers that Crowley preened now resting where they belong.]
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obediently folds his own as they fade from this plane of reality, and gets his remaining clothes off. ]
Your wish is my command, angel.
[ Sinking into the hot water, he rests his arms on the rim and pillows his chin in his folded hands, watching Aziraphale undress with great interest. Despite the tension in his groin and his eagerness to have Aziraphale back in his arms, he feels uncharacteristically serene. It's comfortable in the hot water, old aches seeping out of his corporation's bones, his many thousands of years of anxieties draining from him in the comfort and safety of Aziraphale's shop.
He grins lazily, flicking a bit of water in Aziraphale's direction. ]
C'mon, sweetheart. Join me. Water's lovely and there's plenty of room.
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He undresses himself slowly, distracted by the image before him, until Crowley flicks water at him and startles him out of his little trance.]
Hey!
[There's no bite to his reprimand, just laughter as he shakes himself and removes the rest of his clothes much more efficiently. He's as aroused as Crowley, which he doesn't bother to hide as he steps into the bath, positioning himself behind Crowley and sighing appreciatively at the water's temperature.]
Lean back, love. I'll wash your hair. Twice, you had said?
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He shifts his bony hips aside so Aziraphale can get in and make himself comfortable, and then settles down between his thighs, leaning back as instructed. He angles his head just so to plant a trail of tender kisses along Aziraphale's cheek, clearly quite happy to make himself comfortable in the angel's lap. ]
Twice, yeah. First to get the oil out and then to condition it. Just a dab of shampoo too. 'Bout the size of a quid.
[ Idly, he strokes Aziraphale's thigh under the water. He feels so at ease nestled up against him, his ever-present anxieties fled to the darkest corners of the shop. ]
Then dab it off with a towel when we're done in here and comb out any tangles. Which there might be, given your penchant for holding on.
[ Crowley leers, looking ever so pleased about the prospect. ]
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I'm going to need to rinse myself off, at this rate.
[He pours out a quid's worth of shampoo, as instructed, and then begins massaging it into Crowley's hair. The lather has a clean, fresh scent, nothing too perfume-y or overpowering. Crowley's leer is returned with a look of faux innocence as he tugs ever so slightly on his soapy locks.]
Considering all the lovely sounds you make when I do, it's no wonder that I've acquired the habit.
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Probably for the best. They'd never have gotten anything else done otherwise. ]
S'supposed to be good for your skin. Coconut oil. Good for - for all sortsa ssstuff.
[ Crowley had gone into that boneless, relaxed state, where he's slurring and hissing his words. His fingers are still idly tracing a pattern up and down Aziraphale's thigh, but they've slowed,
as Crowley's practically melted into the angel's arms. ]
Hmmmgh - s'good, love. Your hands. Always so good.
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Mmm, you'll have to share with me all your beauty secrets. I can keep a stash of it here for whenever you visit.
[He works more of the lather in, bringing his fingers behind Crowley's ears and scratching lightly at his scalp, pleased at how Crowley has gone all melty and hissy from his touch.]
I've been learning what you like, dear, and I'm a quick study.
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Another talk they'll need to have someday. Not today - or at the very least, not this minute. Maybe he'll just bring up the subject of letting some of his fussier plants into the shop where he can keep an eye on them. Before they get too complacent.
The thoughts are lost in a rush of incoherent noises coming from the demon as Aziraphale massages his scalp. Once again, he is absolute putty in his hands, rubbing his back up against Aziraphale's chest. ]
Always been a quick study, clever bassstard.
[ Normally he'd be embarrassed about the hissing, but in this state he's finding it hard to think about anything that isn't Aziraphale touching him, let alone have the mental fortitude to be embarrassed. ]
Hrrrrmmmgh - never stop please.
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He hasn't said anything yet, of course. He might be waiting for Crowley to broach the subject. He has that sleek and expensive flat in Mayfair, after all, and cohabitation is significant step in any relationship. He won't turn away any plants that Crowley brings by, though, or anything else he wants to leave in the flat or the back of the shop.
The praise makes him smile, a warm feeling in his chest as he continues to wash Crowley's hair.]
As much as I'd like to comply, I do need to rinse your hair at some point, you know.
[The shampoo is as lathered in as it's ever going to get, but he spends a little extra time massaging Crowley's scalp, turning the demon into a delightfully limp noodle.]
Tilt your head back again, my dear? I'll rinse your hair and start afresh.
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He had thought he'd never want to come out Aziraphale's bed. Now he's fairly certain he could at least do with a good soak for the next two centuries provided that he doesn't have to part from Aziraphale's warmth (made only warmer by the bathwater). ]
Mm, this is nice. I'll leave everything to your very capable hands, shall I?
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Yes, you shall. I'll take very good care of you and your hair.
[Picking up a cup from the edge of the tub, he fills it with water from the tap, then pours it over Crowley's hair. It takes a few pours to clear away all the lather, but the water is always the perfect temperature and he keeps his other hand at Crowley's eyebrows to shield him from any errant droplets.]
Perhaps I can have a detachable faucet installed, like they use at the salon, if this becomes a regular thing. What do you use to wash your hair at your flat?
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Just what you're doing now. S'more relaxing.
[ Crowley feels like there should be more to his hair care routine than a rather innocuous oil, a bit of shampoo, gentle rinsing, and a bit of brushing, but he finds that in this case, following fads only left his hair a dry mess.
He reaches up to cup the angel's cheek in his palm. ]
You're doing perfectly. This feels incredible.
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It's rather lovely on this end, too. Budge up, dear, it's onto round two.
[He gently nudges Crowley's head back up, and helps himself to another small dollop of shampoo that he massages into Crowley's hair, significantly less oily this time around.]
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Without fuss Crowley leans forward again, making a low noise of approval. ]
This feels wonderful. Be careful though - might try to tempt you into taking over this whole routine completely.
[ He doesn't want to picture how he'll make big snake eyes at Aziraphale while holding up the jar of coconut oil and bottle of shampoo while making an imploring pout. It's too much for his very demonic pride. ]
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I'd be delighted to, you know, every time. We could start every morning with a good brushing, at the very least.
[He hums a little tune as he continues to wash Crowley's hair, unaware of what he just implied, that Crowley spend every night at Aziraphale's so that he can care for that lustrous hair in the morning. After a longer-than-necessary massage, he tilts Crowley's head back again and reaches for the cup.]
Last rinse, dear.
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Maybe they're still struggling with being direct, and maybe they would for a long time coming. Six thousand years is a long time for habits to get ingrained, but he wants Aziraphale to know he's seen. ]
Every morning, eh? I like the sound of that.
[ His fingers had returned to trailing up and down Aziraphale's thigh. ]
I'll bring my toiletries over then? ...Maybe a few other things from the flat too...?
[ Give him an inch... ]
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The fingers on his thigh put a smile on his face, once that fully blossoms when Crowley offers to bring a few of his items over.]
Yes, please do. I'll even give you half the vanity. [His voice is teasing; Crowley can take up as much space as he likes.] What other sorts of things are you thinking?
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Crowley remembers happiness as well. Constant, unfathomable, ineffable joy of being in Her service, and yet it was never enough. He always wanted more.
Here, in this moment, it's enough. This joy he feels is fathomable and very effable. They had, in fact, been effing just the other day on the sofa. But it was enough. Half of a vanity. A warm bath with Aziraphale. Little plans for days to come.
He's not sure why it's something so small that hits him so hard, but it does and he turns his soapy head into the crook of Aziraphale's neck. ]
Don't have too many things besides my plants, the Mona Lisa, and some sculptures.
[ He grins against Aziraphale's throat. ]
...And the throne.
[ He loves the throne. It's so cheap, so tacky, so over-the-top, so utterly against his minimalist decor - it was one of the few bits of his actual personality he'd let the Mayfair flat reflect. ]
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From:Just noticed my dumb typo up there! Sorry. :<
From:lol no worries - i don't remember seeing any typo at all
From:Re: lol no worries - i don't remember seeing any typo at all
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